


Converge

by Ultirex



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Implied Sexual Content, M/M, it's not a conversation it's boning, post-LL24, spoilers for lost light
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-05 00:20:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20479871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ultirex/pseuds/Ultirex
Summary: There's still a conversation to be had in the wake of Drift's near death experience.





	Converge

**Author's Note:**

  * For [prowlish_archive (stardustbytes)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardustbytes/gifts).

> Happy birthday to the always wonderful Ziggy. <3

His spark and the gaping wound in this chest that had accompanied it had both been repaired, but there was still a phantom sensation of something missing.

Drift would find his hand wandering to his chest in the days that followed the incident. Even with all the celebrations and the constant sense of revelry that came with saving the world, something about the situation still rang hollow. He couldn’t give the feeling a name, nor did he have a confidant who was adept in the language of emotion and could translate what he was feeling into words.

_Had such a person ever existed? His recollection only went so far as to instill a sense of doubt, and never enough to clear through the obscurity that it left in its wake._

So he would scratch at his plating, would absentmindedly attempt to soothe the burning discomfort that had taken hold of his spark like a virus, until the ever-vigilant Megatron would inevitably notice from across the room and regard him with a look that was equal parts disapproval and concern-

Oh.

Perhaps it should have occurred to him sooner that that had been the genesis of it all, and once he was able to put a name to the cause the phenomenon itself quickly followed.

He yearned. 

Even in his half-conscious state, when his processor had been besieged by system alerts and warnings that heralded an almost certain death, his awareness had been isolated to the weight of Megatron’s hand on his chest, the burn of the laser as it coerced the wound closed, and the words murmured in a tone he’d long thought lost to a violence that did not know the beauty of poetry. 

And still it persisted. Such was the cost of being brought back from the brink by someone who had become inextricably woven into his life, no matter how much their philosophies had diverged or how unkind the years had been to them both.

There was an obvious solution to his predicament, and Drift had resigned himself to it the moment that he caught Megatron’s eye from across the bridge. Their mutual stubbornness had assured that neither one of them would back down from the silent promise they exchanged.

**______________________________**

The sight of Megatron’s bruised lips was one that sent surge of electrical potential down Drift’s spinal strut and straight to his array, knowing that he had been the one to put them in such a state. 

“Careful,” he’d cautioned with a flash of teeth when Megatron had attempted to brutishly claim his mouth, and it had thrilled him to be able to deliver on such a threat with an enthusiasm that had only spurred them both on.

Sex had always been something of a tug of war between them, a power struggle born from the dynamic equilibrium they shared of a need to dominate and to be dominated. And though time had worn them both, Drift had been pleased to see that Megatron could still give as good as he got. 

Megatron’s optic opened into a narrowed slit. The crimson of his gaze was only matched in intensity by the glow of their sparks exposed between them.

“Something amusing?”

His speech was sluggish and slightly slurred. It was as big a testament to the intensity of his overload as the lingering scent of ozone in the air. 

Drift’s grin only widened at the thought. “I was just thinking about how nostalgic this all feels.”

Megatron grunted. Drift was expecting him to get up at the provocation, to return to form and approach the afterglow with the same authority that he had in the bygone glory days of the Decepticons. 

But he simply allowed his optic to shutter once more, and dared to indulge in a moment of idleness. 

“Feel better?” he asked. As if to mirror his words a tendril of energy from his spark gravitated towards Drift’s, looking for an honest answer that Megatron knew he couldn’t rely on being told.

Drift considered the dull ache between his thighs, the bite marks on his finials, the indentations along his neck that looked suspiciously like Megatron’s fingers.

The sense of fulfillment that had replaced the hollowness of longing, one that surged with a renewed vigor as Megatron’s life force continued to mingle with his own.

A little emotional honesty every now and then wouldn’t hurt. He figured he owned Megatron that much for saving him.


End file.
